


Red

by usa123



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d made a mistake and someone else had paid the price.  Steve’s blood was now on his hands.  No matter how much good he continued to do as Iron Man, he’d never be clean of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

He was standing in the white tiled room that reeked of disinfectant, his blood-red hands gripping the sides of the sink as if the white porcelain was the only object grounding him to reality.  His breath came in pinched gasps as he fought to wipe the image of Steve bleeding—dying—from his mind.

“Tony?  Are you all right?” a soft voice called from the hallway.

Stark scoffed at Pepper’s question.  All right?  He’d always be all right.  Today, though, it was taking a little longer to get there.

“Yeah,” he replied softly.  “Be out in a minute.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Tony exhaled loudly and stared at his reflection in the glistening mirror of the men’s bathroom in the closest hospital to the accident, unable to recognize the man staring back.

How did this happen?  How did they let it get this bad?

He slowly detached one hand from the sink and reached for the faucet, flakes of red sloughing off his hand and falling listlessly against the white.  He grabbed the decorative handle and pulled but his hands were too slick with blood—Steve’s blood.  He swore vehemently and yanked harder, finally gaining purchase.  The handle rotated with a deep groan, not dissimilar to the sounds that had emitted from Steve as Tony had stuck both hands in the gaping wound in his side, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Hot water rushed from the faucet, white noise to the sounds of his teammates yelling, wanting to know what had happened.

He didn’t even know.

Tony swallowed hard and instructed his legs to once again bear his weight.  Praying his entreaty was successful, he slowly retracted his grip on the sink, his legs feeling gelatinous and unstable as they were forced to support him.

He stuck one hand cautiously under the stream, wincing as the scalding liquid collided with his tender flesh.  But he didn’t pull back.  The pain gave him something else to concentrate on.  Something other than his teammate dying in the next OR.  Something other than the realization he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The once clear, once pure water turned pink the second it contacted his scarlet skin.  It fell into the basin a harsh shade of red, swirling around for a few seconds before making its way down the drain.  And it hardly made a difference.  Blood was everywhere.

He managed to grab the soap on his third try, the cream-colored bar dislodging more flakes of red as he struggled to keep a hold of it.

He bit back the bile that raced up his esophagus, wanting to be expelled.  He wouldn’t give in.  He needed control over at least one thing at this very moment.

Both hands were now under the water and he vigorously rubbed the bar of soap between his palms.  The handle he had grabbed, the soap, the water, the sink was even stained an odd shade of crimson.

By this time, everything was red.

Red here in the hospital.

Red there at the scene. 

How can someone loose so much red and still live?

He kept scrubbing at his hands, trying to wash all traces of the accident, convinced if he tried hard enough, the memories, the sounds, the sights could go right down the drain with all the physical remnants.

His chest constricting tightly, he took the bar in his right hand and scrubbed the back of his left hand.

Even more blood.  There had been blood everywhere.  Bubbling through the measly compress Tony had shoved into the seemingly endless void.  Both freakin’ hands had held it in place but it hadn’t done any good.  Blood continued to flow out of Steve with such speed, it was lucky the ambulance had gotten there in time.  Super soldier or not, that wound was meant to be deadly.

It still might be.

He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath.  He let the air flow back into his lungs and switched hands, his skin the same shade of red as before, the coating of blood replaced by inflamed skin.

Then he noticed the dried blood under his nails.  He scratched the bar with what could be called desperation but what he would later call intensity.  The chunks of soap ground painfully against the delicate skin under the nail but he didn’t stop.  If the area was occupied by soap, it couldn’t be occupied by red.

Steam rose from the sink, clinging to the mirror and blurring his reflection, turning his almost frantic/frenzied look into one with more serenity.

“Tony?  You’re worrying me.”  Pepper.

_He_ was worrying her?  That was rich.  He had been able to put not one, but both of his hands, into Steve’s side and that had hardly made a difference.  And she was worried about _him_?

“Almost done,” he forced out, his words ringing hollow to his own ears.

“I’m coming in there,” she announced.  She must have recognized his tone.

The door screeched but didn’t open, the deadbolt he had so thoughtfully engaged keeping it closed.

“Tony!” She shouted, pounding on the door.

All the while his hands kept moving.  Between fingers, up to the wrists.  He was covered in lather.  But that was preferable.

“Just another minute.”  He leaned forward, the water racing over his forearms, wiping away the sticky blood.

He reached out again and forced the handle backwards, sharply cutting off the flow.  His hands unconsciously grabbed the side of the once white sink.  It would never be the same again.  His head hung limply between his shoulder blades, his chest heaving.

“Anthony Stark! You let me in right now!”

His body obeyed her order in almost a daze, twisting back the deadbolt, his arms automatically wrapping around her as she crashed into him.  A patch of wet spread on his shoulder as tears fell from her eyes.  Her hands wrapped around his, her skin frightening cool, pulling them close to her heart.   She was swearing at him, telling him to never do something so stupid again, that she was so glad he was okay, but he wasn’t really paying attention.  His mind was on the other side of the hallway in the OR.

He’d made a mistake and someone else had paid the price.  Someone else’s blood was on his hands.  No matter how much good he continued to do as Iron Man, he’d never be clean of that.

Still wrapped tightly in Pepper’s embrace, the two stumbled out of the men’s bathroom and dropped into vacant seats in a nearby room, waiting to see if their teammate—their friend—would survive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!
> 
> (Find me on Tumblr: usaOneTwoThree !)


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